Yellow Flower
by MoonIce20408
Summary: Moriarty's plan has a last minute change.


James Moriarty was a clever man. Twisted and sick, yes. But very clever. Everything he had ever done had been planned out again and again, to ensure it was flawless. Every robbery, every killing… And he took pleasure in his business. He enjoyed being feared, the control he had over a life, and the feeling of power that buzzed through him each time he watched another body drop. Whenever someone claimed him to be a psychopath, it did nothing but boost his self-confidence.

His plans never failed.

One, however, did need a few last minute alterations. Of course, it wasn't something Moriarty couldn't figure out. A new plan was made before he even gave the orders for the original idea.

Sherlock Holmes was a clever man. Unlike any other the consulting criminal had ever come across before. He was his equal, just playing for the other side. How could he resist getting involved? It would be so easy… A little doubt would be enough to send Sherlock mad. As Moriarty got closer to the now famous detective, he could see his plan growing more and more possible. Then came his little friends. Each so simple, but so dear to Sherlock. _What would happen if they got put in the firing line? Add a little more tension and watch Sherlock dance…_

But when it came down to risking the lives of the four people Sherlock cared for most in the world, Moriarty couldn't do it. Three? Three he could do.

"_Get Moran. Now." Moriarty said in a low tone down the burn phone. Walking casually down the street, drawing no attention to himself. The was the sound of the other phone being passed before Moran spoke._

"_Sir?" _

"_You, and three other men are going to kill Sherlock's little friends. Meet me in the usual place in half an hour."_

"_Friends?" Moran remarked._

_Moriarty let out a chuckle. "Watson, Hudson, Lestrade and H-"_

"…_Sir?"_

_The man froze in his place, the name caught in his throat. His eyes filled with confusion. "Two men." The words came out of his mouth before he realised had said them._

"_Um, excuse me sir?"_

_Moriarty began walking again, at a slightly quicker speed. His tone became a little louder too. "You heard me. Forget what I said. You, two men, half an hour. Don't. Be. Late."_

_With that, he threw the phone onto the road, for it to be crushed by a car moments later._

After he told his men where they had to go, what they were to do, he left them to their own advices and marched back to his current apartment. Once inside, he still wasn't able to shake that feeling. A feeling that was so alien to him. The plan seemed so clear in his head…

_Molly Hooper._

He said the name again and again and again in his head. She had cracked him, Molly Hooper. And she had no idea. She was merely a pawn in his games, not important and easily replaceable. But the smallest things she had done, had left there marks. Cracks that started off so small. _Molly Hooper._ The one name that finally broke him.

The idea of asking her out never concerned him. He didn't care enough about her to worry about upsetting her. He just needed to get to Sherlock. She had thought about it for a moment, before smiling and giving him her number. As she walked away, Moriarty could see in her eyes how innocent she was. And he was left wondering how a person could be so good. But he quickly shook the thought and he left the building.

It wasn't till their second date he really took notice of her. After listening to her talk about her job he realised that she was much smarter than people thought. Not as smart as him, of course. And she was interested in the dead, not once did pull a disgusted face whilst saying she opened up dead people, and poked at their organs, for a living. Moriarty could help but think if he could get her to join him, that she would be an excellent addition to his team. But he needed her to get to Sherlock.

By the time of their third date, she wasn't texting back as quick as she usually would. He could only assume that Sherlock had deduced him as gay and told her. But, he was done with her now. The third date would be their last, and he was perfectly okay with that. Well… he was okay with it until the end of it. Since the second date, the idea of her on his team had lingered. He had tried to imagine her placed in different situations he could put her in. He knew she would ever hurt anyone, never mind kill, but he liked to picture her being there somehow. Not that he took any notice of himself doing that. Next thing he knew, he was dropping her off at her apartment, and she left the car pretty quickly. A twinge of sadness hit him as he saw her close the door. And the fact he allowed himself to grow fond of made him angry.

It hadn't taken more than a few seconds for the anger to take over the sadness, and… Well a man was found dead in an ally the next day with multiple stab wounds…

Now, James Moriarty was in his own kitchen, laughing to himself. The laughing was the mocking, and before he knew what he was doing, the kitchen counter had everything violently pushed off in one swift arm movement. The table was kicked over, and one of its chairs were thrown so hard, that it left a dent in the wall, and smashed when it hit the floor.

The man was left hunched over, almost shaking, and taking deep breaths through his teeth.

When his muscles relaxed, he walked over to the broken vase that had been on the table. The water inside it had pooled across the white kitchen tiles. He bent down, and picked up one of the yellow flowers that had been inside it.

"Molly Hooper." He said quietly, twisting the flower in his fingers.

**Thanks for reading.**  
**I won't lie, I can't see Molly and Moriarty ever working, but there's just something about them…**

**Review?**


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